The sky, the ocean, if not for all the people in the plane, I would feel like a bird. Relief rolls through me as I get further and further away from home…away from him. To be in a place where there is no danger of running into him, or anyone he knows. To be in a place where no one will ask me how my boyfriend, ex-boyfriend is…makes some of the pain in me uncoil. Dread is a terrible thing and I have been living with dread since Jason walked out of my apartment.

The clouds outside my window are beautiful. I focus on them and not the miles of water below me. Beside me, is the Asian man with the pony tail. He smells of Old Spice the classic kind. I didn’t know anyone my agewore that scent. Its a spicy, clean smell that reminds me of my grandpa. I am thankful Ponytail Man hasn’t tried to chat me up. In fact, outside of his polite smile when I took my seat there has been no communication. He is intent on whatever he listening to through his earbuds.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Despite the lack of communication, I am aware of his weariness. Its not like he is sighing or making any noise, its just the way his body has melted into his seat. The way he has contained himself, seems much like the way I have contained myself. Of course I am probably just making up a story about him. I have zero information to go on and yet here I sit burdening him with my issues as if they were his own. Mirroring is what it’s called. Its easier to transfer than it is to deal.

*

The sun has long set. Stars have filled the sky. Beside me Ponytail Man is dozing. He has a very soft snore that would probably be louder if he were laying flat in a bed. I turn toward him. For one full minute I study him. His face has gone all soft like a little boy’s. I glance at his hands. He’s not wearing a wedding ring or a couples band. Single or just not committed, or maybe not into rings. I turn away from him. Of its own accord my thumb brushes against my bare left ring finger. I close my eyes and pray for sleep. I don’t think I will sleep, I rarely do on planes.

For awhile my own thoughts crowd my mind, and then as my thinking slows down, I hear the steady breathing of Ponytail Man. My breathing begins to match his. I feel my mind drift.